Requiem
by Ephemeral Muse
Summary: He thought they'd be together forever, that he'd have many more chances to tell him what truly matters. He didn't realize just how fleeting life really was. 69D character-death fic.


A/N: Honestly, Why do I even bother writing the author's note before the story? Nobody even reads anything until MAYBE after the fic. Argh, fine, I see how it is. I'll write my stuffs below, then. Hmph.

For **thePeekaBoo's **KHR Romance Writing contest.

Theme : "Insomnia" and "These Words Were Said Too Late"

Disclaimer: "Katekyo Hitman Reborn!"'s characters, plot, and all other affiliates of the manga and anime belong to Amino Akira, meaning it does not belong to me whatsoever. I own solely this piece of literature, and thus I would also appreciate it if fellow authors and writers do not steal any of my work. Thank you, and enjoy "Requiem".

* * *

Requiem.

_A DinoxMukuro fic._

_Drip...drip...drip._

The faucet was dripping. It was an annoying, testy sound, but he refused to move from his fetal position in the kitchen. After all, it's only a handful of water...the stacked up, dirty dishes would appreciate the only source of attention they received in the last week.

_Tick...tick...tick._

The clock seemed to be ticking even louder than usual, a constant reminder that time would not wait for him, that life still goes on. Louder and louder...in the bleak, lifeless apartment, the sound echoed against the the dark walls, irking him more and more with each passing second.

Slowly, as if he had just woken up from a century-long slumber, he raised his head and staring blearily at the aged grandfather clock that stood ominously across from him.

_4:30 am._

He would've groaned in pain, perhaps even shrieked in agony, if he wasn't so utterly drained. After all those hours of staring listlessly at the dull tiles that were paved into his kitchen floor, after all that time of tears dripping down his face in a manner not unlike the water from the faucet, it was only two in the morning.

His once golden locks, now faded into unkempt muddy-hued strands, hung in front of his washed-out ochre irises. Anemic, trembling hands reached up and brushed them out of his sickly pale face. A flash of discomfort washed through his otherwise lifeless eyes as he moved from his huddled up position, stumbling.

His brain slowly whirred back to life as he considered his options. Going to bed was not an option-- ever since that day, he hadn't dared to let sleep claim his body for fear of seeing _him_. The sight of the empty bed alone would send him into a spiral of pain and anguish. How long has it been since he fell asleep without the other beside him?

* * *

"_So tell me, Bucking Horse, why don't you ever call your subordinates for help?" _

_The pineapple-head, who was lying beside him and draped in his bedsheets, smirked with amusement and poorly concealed arrogance, knowing the answer yet wanting to hear it from the other man's lips.  
_

"_...No reason, really. I mean, it's not like you're of any harm, right?"_

_As always, the blonde would evade his question with a vague answer and a smile...that annoying smile of his. Sometimes Mukuro just wanted to wipe it off his laughing face...after all, the Cavallone boss really shouldn't be such a carefree and naive man, wouldn't you agree?_

"_Hmph. One day, Cavallone, I'll make you scream the answer out for everyone to hear."_

_Needless to say, the blonde was instantly deformed into a blushing blob. Still though, despite the fact that he was clearly the dominant one, despite the fact that Mukuro Rokudo was able to get anything else he wanted from the other...he never managed to hear the words from Dino's own mouth. Whether it was from shyness, or because he really didn't feel that way, the reason was unknown.__

* * *

_

Shaking his head to rid himself of old, useless thoughts, he trudged his way to his bathroom. Turning on the lights, he couldn't help but wince at the sudden brightness as well as his own reflection. Leaning closer to the mirror, he traced his skin, smiling grimly at his disheveled appearance.

"Heh....I look like crap."

Stepping into the shower in an attempt to tidy himself up, he let the hot water scald his skin, closing his eyes as the steaming droplets fell upon his body.

_

* * *

_

_"What the-- What are you doing in my shower, Mukuro?!"_

_His face was not unlike a tomato at that point. Trying futilely to retain an ounce of his dignity, he scanned the room frantically for a towel, or anything to cover himself up._

_"Kufufu, why are you acting so shy, Bucking Horse? It's not as if I never saw you naked before."_

_The man raised his eyebrows suggestively, turning the blonde even redder. _

_"T-That's besides the point! Why are you--"_

_His words were smothered by strong lips crashing down on his own. Releasing him from the short yet passionate kiss, Mukuro smirked and whispered huskily in the other man's ear._

_"Now now, let's not waste any more time asking useless questions, neh?"_

_

* * *

_

The clock read 5:15am when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet. He shuffled back into the living room, looking around for something to do. Left with nothing else to occupy his mind with, he slumped to the floor, wearing nothing but a ripped pair of jeans and a shirt...his shirt.

He never really noticed until then, but his scent had rubbed off on all his clothes. Just as a smoking addict finds a slight comfort in secondhand smoke, the shirt he wore gave him some much-needed peace. An addict....that was what he had become. An addict of something that would never exist in this world ever again.

_

* * *

_

_It was supposed to be a easy mission, a simple recon. So why, why was he covered with blood-stained sheets?_

_"D-Dino...You came." Tsuna's usually innocent eyes were stained with exhaustion and sorrow. "I'm sorry...it was an ambush. Only Hibari made it back."_

_He didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. He stumbled his way, dazed, to the body lying on the stainless steel table. His hands shook violently as they reached out to the cloth-covered body, filled with denial. There was no way it was him...anybody else, maybe, but never Mukuro._

_He was just about the lift the sheet from the body's face when a hand snatched his wrist. He turned, and came face to face with his former protege._

_"Don't bother," Hibari said flatly. "They got him right at the neck with a sword. His head's barely attached. There's no point in seeing with your own eyes— he's dead."_

_He managed to suppress his hysteria until he left the hospital. He would've been able to hold it all in until he was alone if he really tried, but he was tired of trying. Tears slowly trickled down his cheeks, but he paid them no attention. If Romario had noticed his boss's anguish, he didn't bother to bring it up._

_

* * *

_

Rays of sunshine had started peaking through his grey curtains while he was musing to himself. Glaring at the overall cheerfulness of the light— he was still against anything vaguely happy during his mourning— he glanced once more at the clock. Surely the sun shouldn't be rising? It was only slightly past four, after all...

6:45 am.

Was it really morning already? Yet another night has passed, leaving the Italian without sleep for the fourth time in a row. The shower may have cleaned his hair, but it could do nothing about the bags underneath his eyes. He groaned, realizing that sooner rather than later, he would have to get up and drag himself through another day.

Another day alone...another day of pain. It would take another 14 hours before he could come back to his shelter. He grimaced, wondering if this ordeal was slowly turning him into a masochist. He wouldn't be surprised, after finding comfort in this self-inflicted emotional torture.

"...Kyoya," He should have acted remotely cheerful, like his usual self, but he was much to tired to care what his protege thought. "What brings you here? Did Tsuna send you?"

The skylark stared at the man, who was only a mere shadow of what used to be his tutor. His eyes held poorly concealed contempt and perhaps a streak of disgust. For a second, the older man thought he saw pity, but he quickly brushed the thought off. After all, Hibari Kyoya was the last person on Earth that would even come close to pitying him. It was just as well— the last thing he wanted was pity. If it was anyone else, he would've shooed them away.

_Bang...BANG!_

The loud banging on his door jolted him out of his reverie. The obnoxious sound ceased for only a second before the door was slammed open. Staring at the menacing sight before him through bleary eyes, it took him a few long seconds before he recognized the person standing before him.

"....Pathetic."

The Italian's eyebrow shot up upon hearing the whisper from his student. A spark of indignation flashed through his mind before being engulfed by the apathy and tiredness that made up his emotions. After all, did he really expect anything else from this man?

"Hehe...how heartless, Kyoya." His face crinkled into a weak and fake smile. His cheeks groaned in protest from neglect— after all, how long has it been since he gave his signature smile?

"Hmph. How long are you planning to sulk, herbivore? Self-pitying is for the weak."

"....Self-pity? Sulking? Who do you think you are?!" The older man's face crumpled into showing his true feelings— anger, frustration, hate, sorrow. "How dare you barge your way in here? Nobody asked for your opinion!"

It was a smart decision to not let anyone but Hibari come. Anybody who knew Dino, knew his carefree self and his contagious happiness wouldn't recognize the emotionally unstable man he had become in these last few days. As it was, Hibari was merely disgusted with the man's inability to cope, or in his words, "suck it up".

"Hmph. Don't flatter yourself— I wouldn't come all the way here just to offer you counseling. I simply came to drop off a message."

"...A message?" His rage had immediately calmed into a neutral curiosity.

"From the herbivore." Hibari tossed him a crumpled letter before the other could barrage him with questions.

Quirking an eyebrow, he was about to persist in questioning him before noticing the bloodstains on the paper. Shaking, he slowly unfolded the paper and read aloud with a trembling voice.

_Cavallone-_

_If you're reading this letter, then it means I'm either dead, or you found this letter while sifting through my pockets. If it's because of the first reason, then try not to miss me too much. I'd hate for you to lose what's left of my sanity because of my death, of all things. If you really must kill yourself, be it mentally or physically, let it be because of something more...appealing. _

_Don't cry too much— you look better when you smile._

_-Mukuro_

Try not to cry? Not to miss him? The tears started falling again at the absurd, nonchalant letter. Though it was short, too short, it was still from him. He still had something, even if it was just a dirty paper, that proved that he wasn't just an illusion, disappearing like the mist.

"...He would've wanted you to shape up." Hibari's murmur shook him up from his musings. He thought the other had left already...

"His body has been buried already. You know where the Vongola's private plot is."

Those were the last words spoken by the skylark before he left, but it was enough. After staring at the dirt-stained paper for what seemed like eternity, he slowly started to stand.

* * *

Despite the sun coming up early in the day, by the time he arrived, the sky was covered with clouds. He waved for the others to wait by the entrance, wanting to say farewell in peace and solitude. As his shoes clicked against the concrete tiles, the mist swam around his body in a welcoming manner. The chilly wind teased his hair, and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his coat.

Finally, after walking and searching for a good half an hour, he stopped his trek in front of a simple, black headstone. There were no crosses or angels for the man, but it suited him perfectly. Carved into the obsidian stone was his name, his birthday as well his date of death, and a simple epitaph engraved in gold.

"Though the body has perished, he will never be captured. Lies are hidden within his truth, and his truth is hidden within the lies. This is the Mist."

Staring at the words chosen so carefully yet simply, he stood there in silence and solitude. The breeze tickled his skin as he thought back to when there seemed to be countless chances to speak to him, to laugh with him.

After placing the blue violets he had brought next to the marker, he straightened and faced the grave yet again. It was about time to leave, but...there was something left unsaid that needed to be heard in words, before he left.

"You know...despite all those hints you gave, I was never able to put these feelings into the words you yearned for so much. I'm sorry that you weren't able to hear this while you were still alive, but...it's better late than never, right?"

As he walked back to where his subordinates were, the mist wrapped around him in a cool embrace. A gust of wind blew by, and he was sure he heard a faint voice chuckling.

_"I love you too, Cavallone."_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Yes, in case you didn't realize, the words that Dino said were "I love you". And yes, Mukuro _was _hinting at it during the flashbacks. The rough idea of this story was actually for a giftfic for thPeekaBoo, but she ended up picking the same pairing and genre for the 9th round of her contest...so....yea. This is for you, Mama Boo! :D

Note-- A requiem is a mass, usually a song or a speech or whatever you prefer, for the dead. You can interpret the meaning of the title however you'd like, since my reason for choosing it is rather....unorthodox.

**PLEASE REVIEW** FOR A TURTLE (lol?), OR I'LL KILL DINO TOO, DAMMIT. I'm annoyed at how many people favorite my story, but DON'T. BOTHER. TYPING UP A 5 WORD REVIEW. T_T


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